


Anything You Say (can and will be held against you)

by FoxCollector



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Coffee, Consent!, Detective!Madara, Ex-Boyfriends, Feelings, Getting Back Together, Hashirama's meddling, Important Conversations, Kinda, M/M, MadaTobi - Freeform, Making Out, Making Up, NOT abuse, Rimming, big warning there, but still, former toxic relationship, just in case, lawyer!Tobirama, now the good stuff, past emotional issues, past physical fighting in relationship, that's a lot of tags, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: Complicated doesn't even begin to describe Tobirama's feelings for Madara.Or, after a bad break up, comes a (belated) make up.





	Anything You Say (can and will be held against you)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So this has been sitting around as a WIP for a little bit, I mean it was done except for the fact that I kept tweaking small details, so I decided I may as well post now or forever change that one word.
> 
> It's not exactly what I was going for when I started, but I think it turned out okay. It's certainly longer than I was planning! But ultimately I think it ended on a happier note. I should probably issue my usual warning when I don't fully understand certain details. I'm not a detective, or a lawyer, therefore I cannot speak to how accurate things I reference are. I mean, I double-checked some stuff, but I'm also Canadian, so if you're looking at this, going "well, hold on" it's also possible that it's a difference in country stuff. Maybe. (It's probably all me, and I'm glad I did it!)
> 
> Title comes from Fall Out Boy's "Just One Yesterday", because it was stuck in my head while writing/editing this. Thank goodness I'm starting school again soon, maybe I'll get some better title ideas.
> 
> Read, enjoy, review!

            There had been a good reason Tobirama had broken up with Madara. Their relationship had turned toxic by the end, and at the point that they’d gotten into an actual fistfight, that had been it. At the time, they’d each blamed the other, even if they’d never say as much around Hashirama. They both loved him too much to sabotage his relationship with either of them, and he would probably never find out the extent of the problems that lead to their break up.

            But still, it was probably difficult going between your best friend and little brother and not being able to talk about the other.

            They’d made it work however, and after about a year of avoiding each other like the plague, things had cooled down enough that they would at least attend the same social gatherings, even if they wouldn’t speak to each other beyond an incredibly formal and cool (on Tobirama’s part) or scathingly polite (on Madara’s) greeting.

            Things improved very gradually, until they no longer killed the mood in every room they were both in, and by the time they’d run into each other at Hashirama and Mito’s fifth anniversary, they’d even exchanged a few words.

            It had taken Tobirama a long time to admit that he’d been as much a part of the problem as Madara. He’d been young, and a bit foolish, if he was honest. Having a crush on someone for a long time, and then finally getting to _be_ with that someone, meant that he'd had an idealized conception of what their relationship would be, and wasn't actually prepared to deal with some of their bigger problems. And because he was working through university, and Madara was in the police academy, they were both short on time, and short on temper when things went wrong.

            One day it just felt like he didn’t really know Madara at all, and every argument about something stupid was blown way out of proportion, and then Tobirama would stay at his brother's, and Madara would be pissed because Hashirama was also his favourite person to talk to about everything, but he couldn’t because that was his little brother.

            To be fair, Tobirama had never really complained about Madara to Hashirama. He’d gone instead to his brother’s then-girlfriend (now-wife) and complained to her. The result was that Mito looked very unfavourably on Madara despite her husband’s best attempts to change her mind.

            Madara had probably gone to Izuna, though Tobirama couldn’t be sure. It was completely possible that he had kept everything bottled up, and that was why he had exploded the way he had.

            Tobirama definitely hadn’t helped things. He wasn’t so proud as to think he was blameless, and the shame he often felt when he thought back to the end of their relationship was enough to cool his anger towards Madara. It was what ultimately lead to him being polite, if cool, to the other man.

            But he wasn’t the same person anymore. He’d grown up a bit, finished his degree and now had a steady job. The amount of stress was at an all-time low and he might even have the time for a relationship, as well as the emotional resources to deal with it.

            If he could get over Madara.

            What kind of toxicity was hanging around that he was still hung up on the guy three years later, he didn’t know. But after a year apart (more or less) and a further two years of restrained politeness and never being alone together, he’d realized that he actually missed the other man. Not the bad stuff; not the fighting (not the way they’d fought towards the end at least), or the emotional manipulation (a huge source of shame), none of that, of course, but the way things had been _before_. He was sure he was seeing things through rose-coloured glasses, but for the first little while, things had been so good.

            And he missed _that_.

            The way Madara used to keep him warm at night, or the way he used to worry when Tobirama went to a conference and would insist on making sure he called as soon as he arrived safely. He missed the easy banter and spirited debates that were always intellectually stimulating and most of all, fun. He missed the sex, the sex was always good, even towards the end, but he missed the intimacy of their early days, when their kisses had less teeth and every touch was everything he needed.

            He missed Madara.

            And he hated that.

            It was his own fault. Even if Mito said it wasn’t: that he couldn’t have known how things would turn out, and that he couldn’t have known his own limits. She was probably right, she usually was, but it felt better to blame himself anyway. There was an apology behind his teeth that he’d never managed to get out. Maybe that was part of why he was still hung up on the older man.

            He didn’t know where Madara stood on the matter. The man wasn’t really the type to forgive and forget.

            But they hadn’t _really_ spoken in a long time. Sometimes he thought he could read regret in Madara’s dark eyes, but maybe he just couldn’t read them right anymore.

            It was probably all just wishful thinking.

            But still, things had improved enough between them that even Hashirama had noticed and had cautiously started feeding Tobirama information on Madara’s current situation. Apparently, the man was a detective. It made Tobirama feel a kind of second-hand pride. It was something Madara had wanted for as long as he could remember, and Tobirama had been supportive, even if Madara had only been in the academy at the time. That, and the idea of Madara in a suit, with a gun hidden on him somewhere played around in Tobirama’s mind like an insidious half-remembered dream. Not that he was attracted to guns, just that the slick darkness exploding into violence at the lightest touch made him think of Madara. The two went together.

            He supposed he was lucky he hadn’t met Madara in a professional capacity yet, but that would change eventually. At least they were on speaking terms. Ish. Hard to know when they didn't see much of each other.

            That had, however, been the reason Hashirama had begged Tobirama to drop something off at Madara’s house.

            Tobirama was sure his brother’s intentions were good, he probably just wanted to force them to talk it out and get along again, but it wasn’t Hashirama’s place and Tobirama was more than a little upset with his brother for foisting the responsibility onto him. There was no reason Hashirama couldn’t just give the thing to Madara when he got back from Disneyworld with Mito and Tsunade. But no, apparently it was soooo important, it just had to be done now. He didn’t even know what it was. It was wrapped in brown paper so tightly and thoroughly he was mildly concerned it was something illegal. Hashirama wouldn’t tell him either, so it was possible it was also something embarrassing.

            So Tobirama found himself hesitating in the doorway of a once familiar house. The Uchiha house, which Madara and his brother had inherited, was fairly large, and unanimously hated by every single Uchiha who’d had the misfortune of living there. Which happened to have been all of them at one time or another. And yet, Madara was apparently living there now.

            Things did change. Then again, Madara likely couldn’t afford to have an apartment and a house, especially when Izuna had begged him to buy him out.

            The house loomed over him, daring him to try the doorbell, which probably still wouldn’t work, and then the knocker (what doors even had knockers anymore?). Tobirama held the package under one arm and reached for the knocker. He hesitated, almost going for the same pattern as he always had, the one that always let Madara know it was him at the door. But then, Madara might not come to the door. Did he want him to come to the door? Did he want to see him?

            He scowled, and knocked resolutely. He was about to place the package on the ground and retreat to his vehicle, when the door opened.

            Madara looked as shocked as he felt when their eyes met. Tobirama froze, gripping the package with both hands. He recovered first, but only barely, shifting to a forcibly relaxed posture and holding the package out slightly. Madara’s stance was as aggressive as ever, his face slipping into something displeased, mouth curled down at the corner. He looked good though. A bit more built than when they’d used to date, and if Tobirama was honest he’d noticed long before, but had never really allowed himself to pay attention (plus, he’d kind of figured, seeing as there was that fitness test at the end of training) and the dress shirt and slacks were flattering in all the right ways.

            “This is for you,” Tobirama said, instead of hello.

            “What?” Madara asked. He looked at the lump in Tobirama’s hands, puzzled. Then realization dawned in his expression. “Oh. Hashirama.”

            “Yes. Hashirama,” Tobirama agreed. He held out the package, offering for Madara to take it.

            “Of course,” Madara said, more to himself than anything else. His expression went from annoyance to something Tobirama couldn’t read. Then, after a pause as though steeling himself, “Come in then.”

            Tobirama frowned. “Why?”

            Madara raised an eyebrow at him. “So you aren’t standing on the porch when it rains in a minute.”

            The sky _was_ grey and heavy above him. Tobirama gave it a glance, then turned his attention back to Madara, ignoring the skip in his pulse when he saw the older man was a bit closer than before, reaching out to take the package from him.

            “Why can’t you just take it?” Tobirama asked flatly.

            “Because you’ll need it back in a minute,” Madara said, as though Tobirama were particularly dense. Then he stopped. “Hashirama didn’t tell you what this was, did he?”

            Tobirama hesitated, stomach dropping. “He did not.”

            “That bastard,” Madara said, though there was no heat in it. “Well, you could always wait in your car.”

            Tobirama bristled. Was that a taunt? Like he’d been the only one doing the avoiding.

            “It’s fine,” Tobirama said. He pushed past when Madara moved for him to go in, and if his shoulder brushed against Madara’s chest on the way past, well, it was a bit more aggressive than was entirely necessary.

            “Kitchen’s –” Madara started, then stopped.

            “I remember,” Tobirama said, a little softer. He pushed his shoes to their usual corner on habit, and then, catching himself, inched them away.

            “Help yourself.” Madara shrugged.

            The front door shut, sealing them both inside. The air was tense, and Tobirama was pretty sure it wasn’t the approaching storm outside. He reached the kitchen, but didn’t get himself anything. It felt wrong now; it wasn’t his space anymore. It never had been, really, the house was solidly Uchiha-space, but he’d always been an exception.

            Not anymore.

            There was a shredding sound, and Tobirama winced at the suddenness of it, until he realized it was the sound of Madara opening the package.

            Tobirama watched him come into the kitchen, trying to figure out what his brother had been so intent on hiding. Madara shoved the wrapping in the garbage.

            “Your brother is ridiculous,” Madara said. He smacked a wad of paper down on the table.

            “What is that?” Tobirama asked. Because if Hashirama sent him on an important quest to deliver _paper_ he was going to maim him. Permanently.

            “Paperwork,” Madara said. He motioned vaguely at the stack, as though that would tell Tobirama everything.

            “Paperwork,” Tobirama repeated.

            “Important paperwork,” Madara said. He reached for a pen from the cup on the table and sat down heavily.

            “How important.” Tobirama leaned against the counter, like it might stop him from doing, well, anything.

            Madara looked up at him. Something like a smirk worked its way across his face. And there, that was sexy. Tobirama shoved the thought away, crossing his arms.

            “Important. I need to sign it. You need to fax it to him,” Madara said.

            “Why can’t you fax it to him?” Tobirama asked. He was ready to leave now. It was hard to read Madara after so long apart and he was having trouble controlling his emotions. He was about ready to break Madara’s pen.

            “Because you need to read it over and sign it, and then give it to that demoness cousin of yours to sign too,” Madara said. “Then fax it back to him.”

            “I swear, if this is some kind of-” Tobirama started.

            “Some kind of what?” Madara asked sharply.

            Tobirama’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why he couldn’t just have us all fax it to each other.”

            “Sure, it’s overly complicated. But when I say I didn’t think he’d send _you_ to bring it over, you can believe me,” Madara said.

            Tobirama stiffened. Part of him wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean, but the other part knew damn well it that meant.

            “Fine,” he said dismissively. “What is it?”

            “Some legal bullshit,” Madara said. Then he paused.

            Tobirama wondered if Madara was just now remembering he was a lawyer.

            “Ah, I hear you’ve built quite a reputation for yourself with the bar,” Madara said. He went back to skimming the document, pointedly looking down.

            “I have,” Tobirama said. His tone was a little colder than he meant it to be.

            Madara hummed in response. He frowned, and crossed something out on the page.

            “I heard,” Tobirama said, “that you made detective. Congratulations.”

            Madara looked up, apparently trying to read whether he was being genuine or not. “Thanks,” he said after a good minute.

            The tension in the room seemed to thaw just a touch. Tobirama debated pulling out his cell phone to text Hashirama about how angry he was, but in the end, he opted not to. It was better to call him on the way out and give him a tongue-lashing he couldn’t ignore.

            “You can seriously help yourself,” Madara said. He was watching Tobirama now. “There’s coffee.”

            That got Tobirama’s attention. Uchihas made coffee like black tar, and Tobirama loved it. After a few seconds of hesitation under Madara’s dark gaze, he turned and got himself a cup. Madara went back to the paper with a satisfied smirk while Tobirama poured himself a cup of coffee and took a grateful sip. God, that was so much better than anything he’d made for himself lately. He was reasonably sure his expression might have slipped toward orgasmic for a second. When he leaned against the counter again, he was much more relaxed.

            “Thanks,” he said into the coffee cup.

            “Sure,” Madara said. “Your brother can’t spell worth a damn.”

            “Believe me, I know,” Tobirama said. He was going to ask what the document was again, but the question died on his tongue. Madara hadn’t answered him the first few times, and he didn’t want to seem like it was bothering him. Even though they both knew it was.

            Tobirama watched Madara flip through the pages for a moment, then he turned his attention to the large window at the back deck. Outside the sky was grey and black with potential. Tobirama loved a good storm. He knew Madara used to too.

            “Looks like it’s going to be nasty out there,” Tobirama said. His voice sounded pleased to his own ears.

            “Don’t get too excited,” Madara said.

            And there, this was like what he’d been missing. Easy banter picking up on each other’s cues.

            He could feel his shoulders tense and a scowl work its way onto his face. He could also feel Madara’s curious gaze on him. The other man didn’t say anything though.

            “Are you almost done?” Tobirama asked after what seemed like a reasonable amount of time.

            “Almost. Would be done already if anyone else had done this,” Madara said.

            He would also be done if he would stop pausing to look up at him, Tobirama thought, but kept it to himself. The sooner he was out of there, the sooner he could go back to trying to move on.

            Yeah, that was likely to happen.

            Madara finally set his pen down with a sigh.

            That had better mean he was done.

            He stood up, bringing the papers over to Tobirama, pausing to stand right in front of him, so close the papers would cover his coffee if they flopped over. It was a bit too close for Tobirama’s sanity, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything about it.

            “Here,” Madara said, his voice a good bit lower than it needed to be.

            Tobirama didn’t move to take the papers. He glanced up instead and met Madara’s eyes, daring him to…what, say something? Do something? He tried and failed to read the other man's expression.

            “Fine,” Madara muttered. He leaned in, putting the papers on the counter beside Tobirama, pressing the cup of coffee warm against Tobirama’s chest between them.

            Tobirama wasn't sure if it was the heat from the coffee, or Madara's body so close to his own that made him flush. He felt on edge, like he might come apart if he didn't leave soon.

            When Madara didn’t move back, Tobirama felt himself tense, shoulders coming up like he was bracing for a fight. Madara turned just enough to look at him, hand crumpling the papers against the counter as he stiffened in response. That expression, he did recognize. Madara looked a bit hurt, a bit offended. He went to step back and Tobirama knew how it must have seemed then. Like he was repulsed or afraid to have the other so close. He frowned, hand coming up almost of its own free will to grab at Madara’s arm and stop him.

            “What?” Madara asked, and all the goodwill was gone now. He glanced down Tobirama’s hand on his arm as though it offended him.

            “Don’t,” Tobirama told him.

            “Don’t touch you? Yeah, I got that,” Madara said. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

            Sorry. That was something they’d never really said afterwards. Even though it was something that needed to be said.

            “So am I,” Tobirama said. He wrestled briefly with himself; there was a chance he was making a mistake, but there was something in his stomach saying he couldn't leave it like this. He wanted Madara to _know_ , wanted to communicate without words everything he hadn't said before, and all the things he still felt. He moved in slowly, giving Madara plenty of time to move away, angling his face so their mouths were inches away.

            Madara watched him warily, eyes focusing on Tobirama’s mouth, then meeting red eyes. It almost made Tobirama lose his nerve, but Madara hadn’t pushed him away, and so he moved to press his lips gently against Madara’s chapped lips. It was barely a kiss, but it took his breath away. When Madara didn’t respond he moved back immediately, casting his eyes downward. He hoped it was enough anyway.

            “Sorry,” was all he managed to say before Madara tipped his chin up and all but smashed their mouths together. He nearly dropped the coffee cup caught between them when he moved one hand up to the back of Madara’s head to deepen the kiss and had to stop himself from letting go of the cup. Madara tasted like coffee too, and the bitterness on his tongue was as familiar as home.

            God, how he’d missed this.

            Madara’s one hand slid from his face around to the back of his head, his other hand going to Tobirama’s back and pressing them together so Tobirama was arched towards him, even though there was a coffee cup digging into both of their ribcages. Tobirama grunted and moved back enough to try and dislodge the coffee cup to set it on the counter.

            Madara pulled back slightly, eyes dark as he glanced down, he took the cup and as soon as it was clear he sealed their mouths together again, chests pressed together now with nothing to stop them. Tobirama heard the clink of the cup on the counter and couldn’t be bothered to see where it had gone when he could instead throw his free arm around Madara’s shoulders to keep him close.

            It was hot and it was good and it was nowhere near enough. The kisses increased in intensity and Tobirama could feel his body reacting, growing hard against Madara and the only thing stopping him from trying to step back was the answering hardness against his thigh. He pushed their hips together just enough to create friction, still with caution. Madara exhaled against his skin, hands hesitating in place.

            “Is this okay?” he asked. His face was barely an inch away, as though moving any further apart was too much.

            “No,” Tobirama said, locking his arms around Madara’s shoulders. “More would be better.”

            Madara huffed something like a laugh and his hands slid down to grip Tobirama’s thighs. Tobirama knew what he was going for and shifted to make it easier as he was lifted up to sit on the counter. Madara moved between his parted thighs, head tilted up slightly to make up for the added height, and caught Tobirama’s lips in a kiss.

            Tobirama moved his legs to hook them around Madara’s waist and felt more than heard Madara growl as he kissed his way down Tobirama’s neck. He paused to bite at the junction of Tobirama’s shoulder when Tobirama ground hard against him. His hands rubbed along Tobirama’s thighs, one moving around to grope at his ass.

            There was a crack of thunder from outside that Tobirama felt in the pit of his stomach. It felt good, like a release of energy. Storms should probably not be a bit of a turn on.

            Tobirama grabbed a handful of Madara’s hair just for the pleasure of hearing him groan against his neck. He leaned back until he was against the cupboard, which didn’t turn out to be very far.

            There…wasn’t actually a lot of room. The handle was digging into his back, and he could have dealt with it if they were just making out, but this seemed to be skipping straight past that. He was definitely okay with that, but not so much the handle.

            “Ouch,” he mumbled into Madara’s hair. It wasn’t a complete lie, the handle was quickly rubbing a bruise into his shoulder, and he preferred his bruises to come from Madara’s mouth if possible.

            Madara drew back slightly, eying him.

            “Your cupboard,” Tobirama said.

            “Oh. Bedroom?” Madara offered in response.

             “God, yes,” Tobirama said. He was expecting Madara to move for him to get off the counter, but instead the other man grabbed his thighs more tightly.

            “Want me to carry you?”

            “Think you can, old man?” Tobirama teased, although he was already wrapping his arms around Madara’s shoulders more tightly.

            “Old man.” Madara scoffed. “Please, I’m even stronger than I used to be. I carried a 220 lb man up a flight of stairs last Wednesday. You’re fine. Unless you’ve been hitting up the new ice cream parlour.”

            It was Tobirama’s turn to scoff. “Oh please.” A pause, then, “Wait, why were you carrying a 220 lb man upstairs?”

            Madara wrinkled his nose. “It’s not sexy. We can talk about it later.”

            Following an impulse, Tobirama leaned in to kiss his brow. “I’ll hold you to that.”

            The corner of Madara’s mouth tugged up slightly, but there was something grim in his eyes. He lifted Tobirama up then, and stepped back.

            “See? You’re fine,” he said.

            “Of course I am.”

            They didn’t make it to Madara’s room right away. When they were barely out of the kitchen, Madara paused to push Tobirama against the wall and suck a bruise just below his right ear. He smacked Madara on the shoulder.

            “I thought we had a goal,” Tobirama said archly. His nails dug into Madara’s shoulders through too many layers.

            “You know I get distracted,” Madara said.

            There was a moment of tension between them then, because really, Tobirama didn’t know him so well anymore.

            Madara gave a small awkward laugh. “Well, I still do. At any rate.”

            Tobirama felt a corner of his mouth tilt up. “That’s fine. I’ll keep you on track.”

            Madara muttered something that sounded like ‘you always did’ as he moved back again.

            The couch to their right was inviting, and Tobirama wasn’t surprised when they ended up there. Although he also wasn’t thrilled with the way Madara draped him over the armrest so his hips were propped up. He got over it quickly however, when he made it his job to undo the buttons of Madara’s dress shirt.

            Did he wear that to work? Because damn, that would be distracting in a courtroom. He was quite sure the judge would not approve of a prosecutor climbing into the lap of the lead detective during testimony.

            He had to pull Madara’s shirt out from his dress pants to get it off, and the delay made him frown. As soon as the shirt was off he had his hands running over hot skin, feeling muscles shift in a way that teased at the strength to hold him down and hold him together. Madara was sliding his hands up underneath Tobirama’s black turtleneck, urging his arms up so he could take it all the way off. It messed up Tobirama’s hair on the way off, but it didn’t matter in the long run, his hair was already a mess.

            Outside there was a flash of lightning, and Tobirama could hear it start to rain. He glanced over at the deck, giving Madara an opportunity to attack his neck with small bites as his hands trailed down his chest. Raindrops pounded hard against the old red deck, every drop splashing as it hit.

            “That reminds me,” Madara said, absently. His hands moved to the button of Tobirama’s tight jeans, drawing Tobirama’s attention back to him immediately.

            “What reminds you?” Tobirama asked, shifting his hips up to allow Madara to slip his jeans down.

            Madara had to step back just to pull the jeans off all the way, pulling socks off with them, and after he’d flung them all off towards the television, he didn’t step back in, much to Tobirama’s displeasure. He ran his hands up Tobirama’s legs appreciatively, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of Tobirama’s underwear, apparently deciding it was easier to deal with now rather have to part again later. Tobirama approved, even if he felt a mild tinge of embarrassment at being naked before Madara after so long apart.

            The look that crossed Madara’s face made him feel a little better though. If he was reading it right, it was one part reverence, one part pure lust, and one part something soft that he couldn’t quite place.

            Tobirama reached out a hand and Madara took it, leaning in to press their bodies together, stretching Tobirama’s hand above him to pin it to the couch and trapping Tobirama’s cock against his stomach with delicious friction.

            “Your pants,” Tobirama said, and it was supposed to sound like a command, but it came out more like a complaint.

            “Yes, I did pick them myself. Surprisingly. They’re some brand name,” Madara said.

            Tobirama rolled his eyes. “You think you’re so smooth. Take them off.”

            “I am smooth,” Madara said. He let go of Tobirama’s hand, and Tobirama left his arm stretched above his head, watching Madara awkwardly undo his belt as he tried not to move too far off.

            “You really aren’t,” Tobirama said, just as Madara managed to unceremoniously drop his pants and tug down his underwear. Tobirama made a noise of appreciation, previous complaint set aside for the moment. Smooth, Madara was not, but he was attractive enough to make up for it.

            “Back to the point though, there’s something I’ve wanted to try on you for a while now,” Madara said. Then he paused, as though he’d given too much away.

            “Really?” Tobirama raised an eyebrow.

            Madara turned red, reminding Tobirama of a teakettle ready to boil.

            “Well, it – I. Nevermind. You just, well. Whatever. You probably won’t be able to think straight when I’m through with you,” Madara said.

            “You’ll have a hard time getting me to forget that,” Tobirama said. “But please, feel free to try.”

            Madara huffed, and a grin slithered into place.

            It almost made Tobirama uneasy. It was the sort of grin Madara used to use when he thought he’d won something.

            Madara sank down to his knees, hands on Tobirama’s thighs, and Tobirama had to lean up to keep his eyes on him. He was mostly expecting Madara’s mouth on his cock, which would have been fantastic, really, but Madara hoisted his legs up, propping one up against the back of the couch.

            “Hold that there,” he told Tobirama. Tobirama curled one hand around his own thigh to keep his leg up.

            Madara lifted his other leg, holding it himself, and Tobirama felt exposed. It wasn’t an unfamiliar position, but he hadn’t been there with Madara in a while.

            Tobirama made himself relax, and had just succeeded when he felt Madara’s tongue against him, licking over his hole. He could not be held accountable for the noise that slipped past his lips. Emboldened, Madara gripped his thighs to keep them apart, and repeated the motion. He circled his tongue around a few times, and then pushed in, slowly at first and then a little faster. What Madara was doing was obscene; fucking him with his tongue, but it felt so good. Pleasure curled in Tobirama's abdomen, and he gripped his own trembling thigh a little harder, the other hand pulling at the couch cushion just to stop himself from reaching down and taking his erection in hand, if only because he wanted it to last.

            Madara sat back for a moment, running his thumb over the sensitive hole in place of his tongue.

            “God, I could make you come like this,” Madara said. His voice was low and throaty.

            Tobirama exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’d prefer if you didn’t. I want you inside me.”

            Madara choked on air. “God, that’s hot. Bedroom.”

            “Bedroom is hot?”  Tobirama said, just to be difficult.

            “Lube is in bedroom. I can get you as wet and open as I want here, but we still need it,” Madara said.

            “Fair point,” Tobirama said. He opened his eyes to find Madara standing at the end of the couch, dark eyes fixed on him.

            “Can you stand, or should I carry you again?” Madara asked. The smirk on his face told Tobirama he was currently on a power trip. Well, at least that hadn’t changed.

            “I do love it when you carry me, but I’m not sure we’d make it, considering we only made it this far the first time you tried,” Tobirama said.

            Madara gave him a look. “You were distracting me.”

            Tobirama scoffed and stood up slowly, his legs felt a bit unstable, and he moved up against Madara’s chest to make up for it.

            “See, now we won’t get anywhere,” Madara said, hands automatically rising to Tobirama’s hips.

            Tobirama responded by pushing him to walk backwards. “Room still on the right?”

            “Yeah,” Madara answered. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were going the right way. “You know, I renovated the basement.”

            “That’s fantastic,” Tobirama said flatly.

            They turned the sharp corner at the end of the hall.

            “It’s still creepy as fuck though,” Madara said.

            “You probably angered some malicious spirits then,” Tobirama said. He pushed Madara up against the door frame, kissing him breathless.

            Madara’s hands were impatient on him, trying to be everywhere at once. He pushed a thigh between Tobirama’s legs, pushing up until Tobirama broke their kiss with a gasp.

            “Bed, now.” Tobirama breathed.

            “Hey, this time it was your fault,” Madara said. He pushed away from the doorframe, backing Tobirama towards his bed.

            Tobirama felt the bed against the back of his legs, and with a brief glance over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t just fall right off the side, he allowed Madara to lower him to the bed.

            “Stay there,” Madara told him. He moved off to the side, going for his dresser.

            So he still kept the lube in the same place. Some things didn’t change.

            Tobirama shuffled backwards on the bed, until he was at the pillows. Everything smelled like Madara, and something warm curled in the pit of his stomach.

            Madara was back on him in a second, crawling up between his legs and pressing a kiss to his abdomen, skillfully avoiding his erection.

            Tobirama shifted his legs apart around Madara, making an invitation of himself. Madara took it gladly, lubing up his fingers and sliding them in where Tobirama was still wet from his tongue.

            Madara opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to reconsider, a bitter expression briefly crawling across his face. Then he asked, “How do you want this?”

            The slide of fingers inside him made Tobirama’s eyes flutter shut, closing out Madara’s face. “Just like this.”

            “On your back, with your legs spread open for me?” Madara asked. There was something possessive in his voice, and it made Tobirama open his eyes.

            He watched Madara watch him for a moment. “Yes,” he said, because he thought Madara wanted to hear it.

            He was right, if the way Madara curled his fingers inside him and clutched at his thigh with his other hand was anything to go by. There was pleasure arching like electricity through his body.

            “I mean, I’d love to ride you until you can’t see straight, but that can come later,” Tobirama said. He bit his tongue in his mouth. Of all the things to say. How was he supposed to know that there would be a later? What a stupid thing to say. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he choked on his words when Madara gripped the base of his erection, twisting his fingers inside him.

            “Fuck,” Madara said. And Tobirama wanted to complain that that was what he wanted to say.

            “Hurry up,” Tobirama ordered. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take, and he really didn’t want to come until Madara was inside him.

            “Impatient,” Madara muttered under his breath. “Condom?”

            “Your choice,” Tobirama said.

            “No condom then,” Madara said. His hands left Tobirama’s body completely.

            Tobirama leaned up just to watch Madara slick himself up, hands lingering more than was strictly necessary just to tease them both. Tobirama bit his lip and reached out, trailing a finger from the base to the tip of Madara’s cock, his memories really hadn't done Madara any justice. It made Madara breathe out sharply through ground teeth, closing his eyes for just a moment before he focussed his attention back on the task at hand.

            Tobirama laid back down, one eyebrow raised, and Madara hauled his thighs up, placing one over his shoulder, making Tobirama glad he stretched regularly. He felt Madara nudge against him first, then slide in. He went slowly, muscles tense where Tobirama could feel him, and Tobirama dug his nails in, one hand on Madara’s bicep and the other on Madara’s shoulder.

            It seemed to take an eternity for Madara to bottom out and fill him completely. He was still, allowing Tobirama time to adjust to him, to the feeling of being so full. It had been a while since Tobirama had been with someone like this. Longer than the last time he’d used anything on himself – which had ended in embarrassment after he’d imagined Madara and orgasmed more intensely than with his last partner. He’d shoved the toy in the depths of his closet after that, as though it was to be blamed, and not himself.

            “Move,” he told Madara, when he no longer thought he could bear the stillness.

            “Your wish is my command,” Madara said. He slid out, and back in hard, hips stuttering slightly. He probably wasn’t going to last long. That was fine with Tobirama, he was fairly sure he wouldn’t either.

            Madara set up a steady pace, bowing his head next to Tobirama’s so he could continue his assault on Tobirama’s neck. His fingers were bruising Tobirama’s thighs, and Tobirama wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, even though it made Madara’s hair fall in his face before he blew it away.

            Once he’d managed to locate Tobirama’s prostate, Madara had been hitting it as often as he reasonably could, and Tobirama’s toes were curling in pleasure. It was almost everything he'd been missing and he was so close. He moved to slide a hand between them, to jerk himself off.

            Madara growled into his neck, and grabbed his wrist,

            “Please,” Tobirama breathed. It wasn’t even a real plea, just a breathless request.

            Madara released his hand, but before Tobirama could do anything, Madara’s hand was wrapping around him and squeezing in all the right ways.

            “Close,” Tobirama said, and a moan slipped out before he could call it back.

            Madara groaned. “Come for me.” He twisted his hand at the head of Tobirama’s cock, hips stuttering as his tip brushed Tobirama’s prostate.

            That was it for him. Tobirama came hard, squeezing his eyes shut, tightening around Madara. He was pretty sure he’d made some embarrassing noise, and he was dimly aware that Madara was coming inside him, but he was riding the high of his orgasm and couldn't bring himself to care. For just a moment everything was perfect.

            When he came down, Madara was lying on top of him, dead weight heavy.

            He huffed. “Move.”

            “Ugh,” Madara said in response. But he pulled out carefully and then flopped down roughly next to Tobirama.

            They both stared up at the ceiling.

            After what seemed like forever, Madara spoke. “So, that happened.”

            Tobirama frowned at him. “Really.”

            Madara sighed. “Look, I don’t know what…I really need to…” He flailed and Tobirama was almost tempted to help him out.

            “Okay, fuck it. I’m sorry,” Madara said. He turned away from Tobirama.

            “So am I.” Tobirama found himself saying again. He watched Madara out of the corner of his eye. “I was young, and stupid. And definitely not ready for a serious relationship.”

            Tension eased out of Madara, and he moved to eye Tobirama. “And I was selfish. I wanted a relationship without the work involved. And…I shouldn’t have…hit you. That time.”

            “I started it. I shouldn’t have pushed you. Or hit you back.” Tobirama looked away now.

            “No. There’s no excuse.”

            “We both went too far,” Tobirama admitted.

            “Understatement,” Madara said, and then scoffed.

            There was an awkward silence settling about them.

            “So, what happens now?” Madara asked.

            “Well, we have options. We could pretend this never happened and avoid each other for another few years,” Tobirama began.

            “Sounds easy,” Madara drawled.

            “Or,” Tobirama left it hanging. An open idea; a suggestion. Fill in the blanks. Get back together. Friends with benefits. Own up and move on.

            “Or.” Madara agreed. “Do you still like that sandwich place?”

            “I do,” Tobirama said. His stomach fluttered.

            “We could do dinner there. Tomorrow, maybe. If you’re free. If you want. I mean, that’s just, like I wouldn’t if you didn’t,” Madara lost track of his sentence and went silent.

            “I’d like that,” Tobirama said. It was stupid how giddy he was after being asked out on a date, considering what they’d just done. Especially considering the way Madara’s come was still dripping out of him.

            “Great. Oh, uh, like a date. Specifically. Is what I mean,” Madara attempted to clarify what Tobirama already knew.

            Tobirama rolled his eyes. “I figured. But, in all seriousness, if we’re going to try anything again…we both need to actually _try_.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Madara said quietly. “Well, why don’t we start with a date, and see where we end up.”

            “I can agree with that,” Tobirama said. He sat up, wincing slightly. “Now, I would really like to take a shower. There is no way I’m meeting Touka like this.”

            “But you look good like this,” Madara said. He said it almost fondly, something soft around his eyes, one hand reaching out to trace along Tobirama’s thigh with his fingertips.

            “I doubt Touka would agree,” Tobirama said dryly.

            “Well, I’d better shower with you,” Madara said. He nodded sagely. “Have to make sure you get clean.”

            “I doubt your intentions,” Tobirama said. He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, but didn’t tell Madara to leave him alone. He wasn’t averse to the idea of company in the shower.

 

            When he left a good two and a half hours later, it had stopped raining, though clouds still hung heavy in the sky.

            After a rather long and enjoyable shower it had taken a while to actually find all of his clothes. Then Madara had insisted he finish his coffee, which was cold. And they’d eaten a small lunch, despite the fact that it was well past lunch time, while Madara explained why he’d had to carry a 220 lb man in a rabbit suit up a flight of stairs.

            It was nearly three when he finally left, more than a little late to meet Touka. Someone else was in the driveway, just getting out of their car. Tobirama paused at the edge of the sidewalk, there was no way he could avoid Izuna.

            Izuna’s eyes widened slightly when they landed on him, then narrowed.

            “Senju,” he greeted cautiously.

            “Uchiha,” Tobirama returned, considerably lighter. He wasn’t about to let the younger Uchiha brother ruin his good mood.

            Izuna stopped right in front of him, eying him. “You’re in a good mood.”

            “It’s a beautiful day,” Tobirama said dryly.

            Izuna’s eyes paused on his neck, and Tobirama had a sudden memory of Madara sucking a bruise onto his skin. He was wondering if his turtle neck was actually high enough to cover all the marks, when Izuna’s eyebrow went up. Damn observant Uchihas.

            “So, you back together then?” Izuna asked, flashing a faux-sleazy smile.

            Tobirama tilted his chin up haughtily, “It isn’t any of your business.” It occurred to him that raising his head would actually give Izuna a better view of his bruises, and he cocked his head to one side instead.

            Izuna grinned at him. “It is my business when my brother has been bitterly pining after you for a while. It’s also my business that’s he’s now gonna be in a good mood. So, thanks for that.” He saluted Tobirama.

            Tobirama sighed, and moved past Izuna, heading for his car. He paused at the door when he noticed that Izuna hadn’t gone in yet.

            “You better not hurt him,” Izuna said. His voice was pitched low, but Tobirama could hear him all the same.

            “I won’t. Not like…” Tobirama took a deep breath. “Look, I’m feeling charitable, so…” He changed the subject. In all honesty, he’d always admired the way the Uchiha brothers looked after each other, even if it had meant a good two years of dirty looks and insults from Izuna. “Touka’s favourite place is that sandwich shop down the street from her office. She’d eat there all the time if it wasn’t so busy at lunch. On Tuesdays, she takes her lunch at 12:15.”

            Izuna was suddenly hanging onto his every word. He looked about ready to grab a pen and take notes.

            “Get her combo 4 with all the toppings, a chocolate milkshake, and a double chocolate cookie. You can thank me later,” Tobirama finished, unlocking his doors.

            “4 combos and a double chocolate chocolate cookieshake…” Izuna said, dazed, yet somehow managing to look determined not to forget.

            Tobirama flashed him a smile. “Have fun.” He opened the door and got in, watching Izuna still speaking to himself as he backed out of the driveway. Maybe if Izuna was distracting her, Touka wouldn’t be on his case about Madara too much. There was no way around Mito though. At least she would keep him honest.

            At least this time around, he was ready to actually work on it.

            It was at that point that he realized he'd completely forgotten about the awful wad of paperwork he'd arrived with. It was probably still sitting on the counter where they'd left it. He didn't exactly want to go back in when Izuna was probably giving Madara a hard time, but at least he would be meeting Madara tomorrow, and could just ask him to bring the papers with him then.

            Maybe he would actually see what was so important, and so decide whether or not to murder Hashirama.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was my first time trying to write rimming, so I hope that went well. Thanks for reading this far!
> 
> If you're still reading, please know that I am currently moving halfway across my country and so won't be able to post too much for a few days (not that I post all that often anyway) and will also be stressed to the max.
> 
> Thanks!


End file.
